


And I See Nothing Wrong With That

by CaptainNinapants



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Altar Sex, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Pining, Priest Kink, Reader-Insert, Ritual, Romance, Slow Burn, Spanking, sister of sin - Freeform, teacher-student kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-08 00:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNinapants/pseuds/CaptainNinapants
Summary: Cardinal Copia unexpectedly summons you to his office and you go for a walk together.





	1. Chapter 1

You weren’t really sure why you were nervous to meet with the Cardinal. He had summoned you, the note that had been delivered to you by a ghoul clenched in your hand as you walked towards his office, wondering what he might want to talk about. The note, simply printed in all caps, just read ‘we need to talk,’ and you were sure he knew just how anxiety inducing such a phrase was. It wasn’t that you were nervous to go to his office, or to see and talk to him. It was more that he had been avoiding you for nearly two weeks. You watched him talk to what felt like every other sister from a distance, and tried your hardest not to feel too hurt about it.

It had been easier to put it out of your head for that week because you were busier and you had made excuses for the Cardinal’s behavior. Clearly he had to be busy too, or it was that those sisters could help him better than any junior level instructor could. But now that you had free time again, you stopped making excuses, and picked up a worse habit; reading into his actions a sense of avoidance, and in yourself, jealousy. 

Of course, this implied that you had some sort of claim to Cardinal Copia. You had just figured you were at least friends, despite having performed a ritual with him in the past. But that was months ago, before he had abruptly cut you out, and well before you had started to harbour some sinful thoughts about him. It wasn’t until you saw him talking to his ‘flock,’ as you had jokingly labelled them in your head, of sisters who would have done anything for a chance to join with him in the most sinful of rituals that you started feeling jealous.

When you arrive at the door, you tentatively reach out to the door handle. The metal feels cool on your skin and recalls the time you had first been summoned to his office. Back when Cardinal Copia had still been rather new in his role and was paralyzed by anxiety more than anything else. Back before you knew that his dark eye was not black, as you had suspected it was during mass, but rather a pleasant shade of green. Back before you had caught the glimmer of grey hair that was normally hidden underneath his biretta. Before you had any sense of what kind of man the Cardinal was going to be, or what kind of meaning he would start to take on for you. 

You knocked on the door before swinging it open to find Cardinal Copia seated at his desk hunched over a book, a pen in hand. His biretta had been discarded and his hair was disheveled, as though he had ran his hands through it frustratedly. He reminded you of one of your students, the key difference being that you wanted to be the object of that focus and frustration. 

“Hello?” You ask, standing in the doorway. You catch his attention and he looks up from his book, dropping his pen on the desk. It makes a soft thud. 

“Yes, sister! Please, come in.” Cardinal Copia took one last look at his book as though he was trying to flag where he had ended. You stepped closer towards his desk, letting the door close behind you. 

“You wanted to talk, Cardinal?” You ask as calm as possible, as though you could hide how anxious you were feeling. Surely he knew how to read you after all that time spent together, when you had spent so many hours together talking, helping him understand you and the culture of the abbey he had come into. You came away from it with a slightly more illuminated sense of who Cardinal Copia was, but he really had questioned you. You felt like he knew you better than you might have known yourself. Or, as you had been rationalizing it for the past two weeks, he didn't want to perform a ritual without knowing the partner first. 

You look to him, trying to make eye contact with him, hoping he catches the concern in your face and does something about it. Instead, his eyes have glazed over and he is staring blankly to a space just past your head. 

You clear your throat and suddenly Cardinal Copia comes back. 

“Please, just call me Copia. How are you doing today?” He asks, almost deliberately oblivious to the fact he just spaced out. 

“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?” You ask, a little more than just puzzled at this point, but you’re still smiling pleasantly. 

“I’m doing...eh. Not so well. I’ve been in my office all day. Would you be okay if we went on a walk around the gardens instead of staying in this place?” 

You nodded, and Copia smiled. “Okie dokie.” He jovially got up from his chair, his black cassock straightening out, and picked up his biretta. He placed it on top of his head with a flourish, as though it was just the finishing touch to the look. “Let’s go.” 

You stood by him as Copia locked his office, and then when he turned and offered you his arm you took it. Despite the swaths of fabric his otherwise small body was wrapped in, you could tell Copia had strong arms. It made you wonder what else was concealed by the habit he put on. You hadn't been able to get the cassock off of him during the ritual, not that it had been a problem.

You walked in silence to the exit of the abbey, the only sounds being your footfalls and Copia occasionally muttering something under his breath. 

The gardens were really a series of walking paths that went through an untamed wood near the abbey. None of the sisters had been particularly fond of horticulture, and so it remained wild, and afforded them the privacy they relished. Copia had steered you towards the beginning of a path, and you noticed him glancing around, checking to make sure you were perfectly alone. It was easy to be isolated out here; perhaps whatever he had to tell you was so sensitive that not even the walls of the abbey, which had ears, could hear it. 

Once outside, he began talking. 

“I must admit, sister, it has been a long while since we last talked. I feel ashamed to have let it go on for so long.” He sounded genuine, and it made your heart swell to know that he could feel for you, even if he wasn’t signalling feelings like you had been. 

“Two weeks is a long time. I just figured you were busy.” 

“Tsk, that’s no excuse to not talk to my favorite sister. Especially after the ritual we shared.” 

You were surprised that he brought it up at all, but as he mentioned your memories of the beautiful ceremony became too strong to resist. It had been so sinful, with both of you fully dressed yet acting so primal, savage. You had shared your bodies in such a way that a bond had formed, one that had proven hard to shake. Perhaps that was where your possessiveness had come from; you were afraid to lose the one man who had ever made you quiver in the way that he had to a gaggle of sisters who wanted nothing more than the opportunity to sin, without a thought to the kind of emotional enjoyment such sinning could bring. 

“That was an excellent night.” You glanced up at Copia, who was looking straight ahead. There was some silence between you, and you figured he was reminiscing about that night as well.  
“Anyways…” He began before stopping, glancing down at you, and then picking up again. Had he lost his courage to speak? “Sister Rosamund shared your teaching evaluation with me. It seems your students respond to you very well.” 

You grinned. “I try to be a kind teacher to them. I understand just how distracted they can be, so close to graduation and wanting to enjoy all the sins of the flesh. Rhetoric is important, but I remember being their age and finding it dreadful when I could have been elsewhere, doing something far more...fun.” 

“I remember being that age. I was far more interested in the sinful enjoyment of life than I was in reading scripture or writing papers. My rhetoric teacher was so strict with us, she used to carry a yardstick. She was someone I chose to avoid entirely when I started teaching.” 

“You taught?” You asked, immensely curious. 

“Yes, sister, at one point they had me doing the same work you’re doing now. Only I had a class of all young men, and it was only through sheer intimidation that I managed to get anything done with them.” 

He had been a teacher. You imagined Copia as much younger, perhaps not wearing any of the robes at all but rather some other smart uniform. You could see him standing at the front of the room lecturing on a piece of scripture, performing the lessons like he does mass every night, leaving the listener to hang on every syllable uttered. A familiar warmth ran through your body as you thought of every scenario you would have tried to pull on him if he had been your teacher. 

“I can imagine you were an excellent teacher.” You said, focusing on the path ahead to try and calm yourself down. 

“I was definitely a better teacher than student. But your evaluation makes it clear you’re a kind and compassionate teacher. If only it had been you preparing me for my thesis instead of the stern sister that taught me.” You felt your cheeks blush at how willing Copia was to praise you, which was precisely the attention you had been missing, or so you would lie and tell yourself. Yet at the same time you found yourself resisting such compliments; were you really so depraved for his attention? Was it fair of you to succumb to Copia’s smooth words so immediately when his ignoring you had felt like a personal insult? 

You pushed off these thoughts to deal with later; all that mattered was right now, where you were on Copia’s arm, enjoying a nice walk with him. And you knew that this exchange now would fuel the fire growing in your loins later tonight, with or without Copia’s company. 

“I’m glad you see the work I’m doing as important. And I can always teach you, if you like.” You offered, jokingly, hoping to diffuse some of that sexual tension you felt building in your bones. 

The cardinal looked ahead again and chuckled. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, sister. I’m already wired to find stern sisters who walk around with a yardstick incredibly arousing.” 

You bit your tongue to stop a laugh from escaping. He had said it so nonchalantly, as though it was just like picking an option off of a menu.

“Well that’s too bad, as I’ve always liked a well-dressed man in uniform.” You said, without missing a beat. And it was true; something about the ritual recoded desire for you, and you found yourself far more interested in the religious vestments than you had been. 

“I’m sure we could come to some sort of compromise, sister.” 

“Oh, I’m sure we could come up with something, Copia.” You glanced up at Copia from the corner of your eye only to see him looking down at you too, a smirk on his face. Suddenly his face dropped, as though some sort of reality hit him. 

“Copia, what’s wrong?” You turned to face him better, moving your hand from holding his arm to holding his hand instead. Your other hand instinctively went to his face, something you would reflect that lovers do and not a Cardinal and one of his subordinates. You searched his face for clues but only found the small wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. 

That is, until he bit his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the movement instead of his eyes. It must have been a signal because he closed the space between you, kissing you gently in the silence of the forest. 

It was a bit dizzying at first, this feeling. It wasn’t at all like the kisses you shared during your ritual, which were hot and venom filled, as though you needed to fuck each other or else you’d drop dead on the spot. This sensation was pleasant in its own sinful way, where his soft lips against yours made your knees weak as though you were young and inexperienced. You felt your lips part against his, deepening the kiss, and suddenly you couldn’t stand the thought of splitting apart from this moment at all. 

Copia pulled away first, just a little, resting his forehead and nose on yours so that you could take a moment to catch your breath. You were still caressing his cheek, your other hand on his chest, just tucked under the grucifix he wore. He had placed a hand behind your head, not pushing you, but a comforting presence nonetheless. His other hand had snuck onto your hip, his touch so gentle you had barely noticed it in the first place. 

You smiled and locked eyes with Copia, wondering for a moment what kind of message this kiss was meant to send. His eyes were bright, happy even, as though this had been the moment he had waited a long time for. 

“Was this what you wanted to talk about?” You dared to ruin the beautiful silence between you with a question. 

Copia let out a soft, agreeing noise before kissing you again, letting that warm feeling flow through your veins without a hint of anything other than affection. 

You felt so entirely childish, but enjoying every moment of it - that is, until someone stood outside of the abbey and yelled your name, forcing you to break apart from Copia and the sweetest kiss you had ever shared in your life.


	2. Chapter 2

You stood in the kitchen, a full bag of potatoes next to you and a peeler in hand. You weren’t quite sure what you did to deserve this strange sort of punishment, but you opted to keep your mouth shut. Sister Winifrede watched you silently from her post at the stove, stirring a pot of what was presumably tonight’s stew, her mouth twisted into a tight line. The radio, an old yellowing contraption, played the oldies station from its perch in the corner.

It was a task you typically loathed, but in your especially distracted state it was nearly a crime. You were typically deft at peeling potatoes from the sheer amount of practice you had but your hands were still trembling from Copia’s kiss and the sudden sense that you had been caught doing something inappropriate.

That is to say that the nonsexual expression of desire wasn’t necessarily a common or easily accepted form of sin in this abbey. But you weren’t too entirely bothered by that aspect; what bothered you right now was how soft Copia’s lips were, how gentle his touch was, and how you had that so abruptly interrupted. You weren’t sure how you wanted him, but you did. You wanted him next to you like that again. You wanted to be alone with him again, to get to touch his face and feel the coarse hair of his sideburns, his arms, to brush your lips against his and see what little sounds you might be able to coax from him.

“Fuck.” You murmured under your breath as your hand slipped and you cut yourself with the peeler. You dropped the potato in the sink and watched the blood pool in the cut.

“Sister, pay more attention to the present.” Winifrede said, her voice as sour as her face.

“Yes, sister.”

You wiped the blood away under the tap and resumed, trying to focus on the task at hand. But you kept getting lost in thought, transported to anywhere than you really were.

You were still, you'd later figure out while angrily peeling the last potato while the Jersey Boys crooned, struggling with the basic comprehension of the facts. The fact that the feelings you held for Copia, including that deep seated jealousy, were not just one sided but mutual. Or at least that was what you had decided that kiss meant.

Supper was uneventful and you tried your hardest to make small talk with the other sisters. Sister Marjorie was excitedly chattering about some trip she had been approved to go on; it wasn't missionary work strictly, but still exciting for the sister who had barely left the community at all. You tried to find enthusiasm, but it was obvious you were distracted, checking the door to see if Copia would come take his supper with the rest of the abbey, or if he was shut up somewhere working on a sermon for the evening.

"Are you planning on attending Lauds?" Sister Ingrid asked you in a hushed voice.

"No, I think I might be coming down with a sickness." You replied, smiling a fake smile and coughing pitifully. Sister Ingrid grinned. On another night when they were being offered you would have considered it, but with Copia, it was hard to know where things might go. And despite the fact you actually found some enjoyment at Lauds with Ingrid, who poked you in your side and whispered lewd jokes during the prayers, you needed some relief from the tension seated in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh that really is too bad." Ingrid made a face just as Copia stood in the doorway of the dining room, his face blank and searching. Your face must have lit up because suddenly Ingrid giggled.

"So I see you're the most recent convert for Cardinal Copia."

Your heart fluttered like you were a schoolgirl to see Copia's eyes pass over you, only to stop harshly when he loomed away and towards the sisters in the serving line.

"I suppose you might say that." You said, your voice falling flat. How could he be back to ignoring you again? Was what you shared not magical enough for him that he needed to get his fix elsewhere?

Ingrid noticed the shift in your demeanor. "If I were you I wouldn't worry about him talking to sister Mildred. She is cute, yes, but she seems too shallow for the Cardinal. Papa III loved her though, if you believe the rumours she probably started."

"You really think so?" You didn't want to sound too smitten, but watching Copia and Mildred talk made you so entirely self conscious. He was paying her the same kind of devoted attention you had been craving. It just wasn't fair.

"I know so." Ingrid at least spoke reassuringly, and that brought you some comfort.

After supper you retreated to your cell, a meager space with a bed and a desk, and tried to come up with some way of systematically dealing with yourself. It wasn't healthy to go on like this after Copia, even if you felt an attraction to him that went beyond the purely primal. And you weren't sure of the next time you would see him, so being a distracted mess was not going to be the look you wanted to wear for the foreseeable future.

So you laid back on your bed, closed your eye and tried desperately to find some solace. That is, until the bells chimed and you bolted upright in bed before running down to the chapel for mass.

Because you arrive late, you end up in one of the least desirable seats in the whole chapel; the far back corner, with the heads of the sisters before you blocking your view of the altar where Copia would be. You arrive just in time, with one of the novices acting as acolyte, lighting the candles before the service can begin.

Your heart stung a little; it was your own fault that you failed to get a good seat near the front. But even if you had, what exactly is your plan then? To make bedroom eyes at Copia and assume that you were still special to him, even when every other sister in the same pew as you was no doubt doing the same?

Perhaps this was what you needed. You needed the structure of mass, public accountability, and the reflective time to work through these thoughts.

You began with the simplest fact; you and Copia had kissed. That felt insulting to boil it down so simple, but you had no choice but to take it piece by piece. He had kissed you and you enjoyed it. You might even be so bold as to suggest that you both liked it.

You catch a glance of him up at the altar, his head bent. He had changed his cassock from the black one he had been wearing earlier to the red one. It looked nice. He began the service, his speech bordering on the most absurd theatrics, yet being taken so entirely seriously. You watch what you could see, admiring the movements, but in your mind you are not thinking of the words he’s saying but rather the fact he once taught.

That was another fact that you kept returning to like a minute hand on a clock; Copia had willingly told you about himself. He told you that he taught, and despite the dubious nature of the event, told you that he was wired to find sisters like you arousing. Of course, you were perhaps too nice to fulfill that fantasy, but you could dream.

The service went quickly, or it at least felt like it for you. The final realization you have, as Copia walks from the altar to the back of the room towards the narthex of the chapel, is the one you wished you hadn’t come upon while sitting in mass. As he walked, the important walk of good posture and exuding sexual energy through the acts of devotion he had performed, you realize that you didn’t need the uniform to feel attracted to Copia: You needed Copia. The ritual itself hadn’t given you a complex, but rather Copia had with every nibble and grunt.

For the final moments of mass you repeat that mantra in your head as though it was mocking you. With each step Copia took, it seemed to get louder, and you felt more desperate for even just a little recognition from him; even just a glance would be enough. You sought his gaze as he walked, his head held high.

And for a moment, just half a second even, his eyes catch yours and you can’t fight the smile that threatens to break what you considered an otherwise cool demeanor. You catch the hint of a smirk in the corner of his lips, but that half a second is gone, and he’s moved on to someone else.

You’re the last person to leave the chapel despite having a spot that is best suited for an early exit. You linger in the pew, watching sisters pass, trying to get a grip on yourself. If anyone asks, you could just tell them that you had an experience during mass. It wasn’t necessarily even a lie. Ingrid, who somehow managed a seat near the front, waggles a few fingers at you happily, before rushing off. Once the chapel is clear, you get up and leave, rushing down the halls towards the vestry’s entrance, hoping to catch Copia.

Unfortunately, you’re too late. Mildred has beat you to the entrance, and you stand back, drawn into the shadows, trying to make yourself inconspicuous but refusing to leave. The door swings open and Copia appears, back in his black cassock, looking tired. Despite this, Mildred starts chattering almost immediately, a rush of words that are compliments, questions, and thinly veiled euphemisms that make you wish you had just left. Copia looks up and down the hallway, his eyes glazing over where you were standing, before addressing Mildred.

“Young sister, would you like to discuss this in my office?”

Your heart breaks a little, but you refuse to let that damage your composure right now as you emerge from the shadows and turn your back on the two, walking in the opposite direction. It will take you longer to get to your cell, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Copia saw you turn from him, and you feel the once chant dull to a whisper. Maybe you did need Copia, but you certainly didn’t need him right now if he was going to play with you like this.

By the time you make it back to your cell, you are exhausted. It seemed like forever ago that you were thinking about the kind of desire Copia had been instilling in you and how you were so sure that you were going to get the happy ending you felt you deserved. You hastily undo your habit and let it drop to the floor before slipping in between the sheets of your bed.

You just aren’t sure where everything went wrong, but you had the sense that some elaborate prank was being played and you were the unsuspecting victim. You tried to revisit the meeting that afternoon, the feeling of his skin under your hand, trying to recall how he tasted and what he smelled like, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t summon the affectionate Copia you thought knew.

But you could think about the ritual, the beastly Copia that you had encountered just months ago. You had not just waited outside the vestry, but rather had knocked on it and been permitted entry. Copia was taking off the final ornaments that he had put on for mass, leaving him in his simple black cassock, and had been more than receptive to your questions. The room was shades of red and gold, and everything seemed to bask in a yellow light.

“How do you preach with such fire?” You asked him, in awe of the performance he had put on and how he seemed to be so unaffected by it as you talked to him in this moment.

“Come here, sister, and I’ll show you.” He replied, his voice impenetrable. He beckoned, holding out a hand that you took. He pulled you closer, chest to chest, and looked down at you. The intensity of his gaze was astounding; you felt like he could see to the very bottom of you, as though there were secrets in the soles of your feet that were at risk of being exposed. His other hand moved to your lower back and pushed you closer to him, and that’s when you feel it, hard as a rock, straining against the layers it is no doubt hidden under.

“Cardinal--” You try to say something, but think better of it and decide instead to take action, letting that hot feeling growing in your groin dictate what you do next. You took both hands and pulled Copia’s face closer to yours, kissing him as though there wasn’t anything else to do but kiss him, as though you can’t imagine doing anything else right now. You needed to find a way to communicate your desire to him, but you simply couldn’t do that in words; rather you needed him to bend you over and give you exactly what you wanted from him at this very moment.

Copia wanted it just as bad as you, and you know this because he is kissing you back, his tongue playing with the idea of going into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He eventually moved his kisses down the side of your face and to your neck, where he doesn’t just nibble but bites. You are surprised by it at first and make an alarmed little noise, but almost immediately settled into the desire of it. Copia remained undisturbed in his tribute to your flesh.

“Turn.” He grunted when his lips move towards your ear, his voice guttural, low, and urgent. You obey, his hands guiding you, all over you. They moved from your waist up to your breasts, and you feel his erection rubbing against the back of your habit.

That is, until he suddenly pushes space between you, removing his mouth from the skin that was exposed. He rips the veil from your head and drops it on the ground before beginning to work on the rest of your habit. It dropped to the floor and you stepped out of it, keenly aware of how naked you are compared to how fully dressed Copia is. But that awareness is not shame, but rather an all absorbing feeling of lust and desire as his hands roam your body before Copia takes your hand and lead you out to the chapel.

It is empty, the lights dimmed and the candles extinguished. Even so, the thrill of it is almost enough to drive you over the edge.

“Bend.” He demands, pointing at the altar, positioning you so that you are looking out to the empty pews. You obey, your breasts cold against the altar’s glass top and a small noise escapes your lips.  
“Louder.” He commands again as he stands behind you, one hand touching your ass as the other begins to move between your legs. The hand that was on your ass moves for a second before coming back, a smacking sound. It doesn’t hurt, but it stings in a way that makes you moan. You remember his demand, and moan a little louder.

“I know you can do better than that.” He says before spanking you again, harder this time. Your moan is more of a cry and you can hear the echo through the chapel. “See?”

He steps away from you and you take a moment to assess the situation, but you don’t dare to look behind you. You’re kind of glad you don’t as you hear a zipper and suddenly Copia’s hands are back on you, one grabbing at your hair while the other is grazing your ass, clearly gripping his cock and guiding it. You feel the head poised at your entrance and suddenly become acutely aware of how wet you are.

“Do you want to see how I preach with such fire, sister?” He asks, teasingly. You nod. “Tell me.”

“Please, Cardinal, please.” You moan as he pulls your hair back and thrusts forward. He fills you, and you don’t quite know what to do with the multiple sources of pleasures, especially as he lets go of your hair and places both hands on your hips.

“Come with me.” He grunts when he senses you are beginning to buck in pleasure, that the feeling of fire has been transferred and is brewing into a storm.

“Mmmm…” You trail off, biting your lip, gripping the edges of the altar as though it would help ground you.

“You only have to hold on a little longer, sister.” He broke the harshness for a split second before undermining it with a thrust that shook the altar. You watched the candelabras shake. You couldn’t hold it in, and found yourself pulsating, gripping, unable to explain exactly what you were feeling. Copia moaned louder, filling the chapel with the sound of his voice, a orgasmic solo echoing off the walls. You crumpled, falling to the ground below him, eyes shut tight as you rode out the feeling.

Tenderly, he had helped you stand up straight, and guided you back to the vestry. He was still wearing the cassock, and you were a little upset that you couldn’t see the cock that had penetrated you now hidden underneath all the folds, but you could feel the leaking of his seed down your legs.

He had helped you back into your habit and saw you to the door. You had glanced behind you, one last look at the Cardinal, only to see the door shutting behind you.

You were lost in the memory of this, so much so that your hand had moved between your legs and you noticed that you had become slick. You couldn’t be mad at Copia right now, not when you thought about how you had let him fuck you into submission. If only he had stayed as dominating as he had been that night, instead of exposing such a soft, inner self that you felt compelled to be pissed at. If given the option right now, as you lay on your bed longing for Copia’s company despite the way he had wronged you, you would have loved to have reversed the roles.

So much for productive, sweet desire. You wanted to hate fuck the same man you had just decided you had feelings for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of writing a midterm paper. Welp.


	3. Chapter 3

“Sister, I understand that you may be upset with me, but please listen. I need to confess.” Copia’s words were heavy and urgent. 

“It is far beyond speculation, Cardinal. I am upset with you.” Your words come out harsh, but deservingly so. He had encouraged you to be emotional, to draw on those feelings you had otherwise repressed, only to spurn you. “And what do you have to confess to, anyways? The sins you shared with Mildred?”

For a second you feel a little bad for how sharp your words are, and you wonder how they feel against Copia’s skin. You think about how you would like to feel against Copia’s skin, too, the pit of anger in your stomach getting confused with something else. 

“Sister, there is a simple explanation for--” He started, but you turn and glare at him despite everything in your body telling you that this was no way to speak to your superior, even if he was stringing you along. He closes his mouth but maintains eye contact with you. 

Your mind doesn’t work rationally at the moment, it is too fired up and hot. “The simple explanation is you like to toy with other people, Cardinal. I don’t know who taught you it, but you’re good at it.” 

The room falls silent. You stop pacing the space in front of Copia’s desk and feel your skirts swish by your feet. Copia, who had been sitting at his desk, placed his hands on the desk and stood up, the rumble of his heavy chair being pushed back. The only light in the office was the lamp on Copia’s desk, which barely illuminated the rest of the room with a warm golden light. The way it cast shadows on Copia’s face made it impossible for you to see the look on his face. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

His voice was small. You had never heard him with that tone. Your heart slowed so every beat matched the deliberate and slow step Copia took towards you. He walked with his hands folded behind him, nestled in the small of his back. He wasn’t wearing his cassock, but a beautifully tailored black suit. It suited him, and you had been hard pressed not to let it distract you initially. 

He stopped in front of you and studied your face. You felt the rage subsiding, being beaten away by the soothing familiarity of his eyes, the shape of his face, the strange appeal of his facial hair. He was smaller without his cassock, and was only less intimidating because you had just yelled at him. 

A gloved hand reaches out towards you, palm up. You take it and let Copia lead you in the office to a futon you hadn’t noticed before that had been crammed in the back corner, far from the lamp. It had struck you as entirely too juvenile for such a man, but at the same time it felt like it fit. You sit facing Copia, your needs just barely touching each other. He lets go of your hand. 

You want to say something, but nothing comes to mind. You feel terrible, though. 

“I must admit our walk yesterday was just a pretense to get you alone and out of the abbey.” His voice is soft yet firm and controlled, as though what he is saying had been rehearsed. “But I never wanted you to think I was playing with you. I acted selfishly and in my own best interest, and am seeking your forgiveness.” 

The only feature you can see on his face with any clarity is his white eye, which unnerves you just as much as it comforts. You try and focus on it. With him sitting with his back to the lamp, the golden glow looks almost like a halo. As though there was some sort of divine intervention to be had. 

“How did you act selfishly?” You ask, curious but cautious. You wanted to add that those feelings from yesterday, that kiss, was mutual. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to speak your piece just yet. 

“Ever since our first ritual, I’ve wanted to get you alone again.” He says quietly. You feel something rise in the pit of your stomach when he mentions the ritual and wanting. 

“Yet you have, multiple times.” You point out, still trying to decipher his face. 

“Yes, but I was always too cowardly to try what I wanted until yesterday when I kissed you. But I kissed you out of a selfish need, sister.” 

A flash of confusion must have crossed your face, and Copia continues. “After our meetings and the ritual, I started to feel something more obscene than a lust of the flesh. At first it was just an errant thought or two, but it started to affect other parts of my...duty.” 

“More than the lust of the flesh?” You ask, trying to get Copia to come out and say what he meant with an almost playful tone. You could infer what this meant -- after all, you are a teacher of rhetoric -- but you wanted to avoid any chance for further harm through miscommunication. 

“Sister, do not play dumb with me.” Copia looks down at his hands before gingerly moving them towards yours, offering them up. You take them, the coolness of the leather gloves against your skin, sending a chill up your arms. 

“Say what you mean, Copia.” You taunt, drawing upon a reserve of firmness typically saved for the classroom. Copia is still looking down at your joined hands. 

“I found it hard to control my thoughts around you. So instead of indulging in the sweet sin of you, sister, I pushed myself away. Or at least I did until yesterday because I figured I had come to a point where I could finally understand myself and my feelings for you.” 

Copia takes a deep breath and exhales, no doubt gathering his thoughts. 

“I feel for you in the most obscene way, sister. Beyond just our relationship within the faith, but as a man who feels for a woman.”

You’re not sure how to process this information. You understand this idea of feelings, and you can relate; just a day ago you were a full convert, sitting in the church, overwhelmed by how much you needed Copia. It was just how Copia was phrasing it that confused you. 

“Obscene?” You ask, your voice calm. It startled you to know how angry you had been, and how easily it had subsided. But Copia was doing as he said, he was confessing. 

Copia tightens his grip on your hands and shifts in his seat before looking at you. It is hard to read what emotions were going over his face. You could tell he was reading you, his eyes flitting across your face, trying to figure out how you were receiving this self exposure.

"Sister, be patient with me." He starts softly. "But I have been doing some reading, trying to understand these feelings I have for you. And so when I say obscene, I don't mean the things we have done to each other's bodies, even though they're pleasurable," he trails off for a second and you catch him sneak a glimpse of the rest of your body, "but I'm talking about affection beyond the body. Love. And the expression of it too." 

"Love? Love isn't obscene, Copia, what you did when you ignored me was obscene." You interrupt, trying to piece together this narrative. 

"And I apologize for it. I'll grovel if you asked me to, sister." You hold your tongue between your teeth, imagining what that might look like. "I was being selfish, retreating away from you when really I should have been working through these feelings with you. It would have been so much easier to understand the very real truth that I love you." 

Your jaws clamp and suddenly you've bit your tongue a little too hard. Copia, who you once thought bloodless for how pale he always was, looked nearly dead even in the dim light. His eyes focused on you, watching every small movement with extreme focus. You were suddenly very aware of the power you had over him in this moment, almost the same power you had wanted last night. 

Perhaps that’s what he meant by obscene. You had one of the most well-kept secrets of a man verbally prostrate himself for you. You had been handed all of these soft interior thoughts, and suddenly it was up to you to make something of them. You weren’t sure how, though. All the words you thought you had, the ones you could have used to tell him you were obsessed with him too, that you might even love him, fell out of your mouth. 

"I-I-that wasn't-" Copia began to stammer as your mind was still hung up on the fact Copia loves you. You weren't able to think of anything else, just that he loves you. He loves you. If it weren’t for the otherwise awkward panic Copia was in, you would feel giddy. 

"Stop apologizing." You say softly, turning your head from Copia and looking over your shoulder into the darkness of the room. You close your eyes, trying to keep the world from spinning. You begin to feel yourself splintering apart with each breath as though your body is brittle and every time you inhale, the skin creaks, threatening to combust. You’re not sure how to process all these feelings. 

"Do you mean it?" 

"Yes." Copia says almost as soon as you open your mouth. His anxiety was showing, and you weren't sure what to do with it. "I love you, sister." 

You breathe deeply, becoming aware of your own body coming back together. 

“I love you.” 

It is barely a whisper, like you’re trying the words out. They flow out of your mouth and fit perfectly. You turn and open your eyes to see Copia looking right back at you. You repeat yourself a little louder and a little bolder this time. 

“I love you.” 

You’re smiling, a stark difference than how you had stomped into Copia’s office. Copia’s face has always been hard to read, but you can see the hint of a grin in the light and it warms your heart. Maybe you’d never be able to stay mad at him. 

Copia shifts in his seat closer to you and gently squeezes your hands. He moves one hand to your face, lightly tracing the curve of your jawbone. You can see his jaw go a little slack, his tongue peeping through his lips. It’s really quite precious. 

And you can’t contain yourself, or you’re at least going to suggest to yourself later that you had no control over it, when you lean forward and kiss him. 

This kiss is different than the last one. It is sweet, still. But there is a sort of desperation in it, a hunger that threatens to turn a sweet moment into something more lewd. You’d be willing to explore it; you’re not sure if Copia is ready for that. At first Copia is surprised, his body tensing up, before he relaxes into it; you feel this as his face turns to fit yours better, his hand on your cheek flattens so it’s his palm cradling you. You let go of his hands and you dare yourself to do something that scares you; you move your hands towards his waist, wanting desperately to feel what that suit still managed to obscure. 

Copia isn’t used to touching like that, but he still moans into your mouth a little when you touch him like that. How long has it been since someone last touched him, even in a non-lustful way? 

You hum as his lips drop from yours and move down to the space below your ear and down your neck. It makes your spine tingle in the best way, amplifying your senses. You were suddenly very aware of his hands and how they moved, one on your shoulder and the other on your knee. 

You boldly move Copia’s hand for him to where you want it; your upper thigh. You scoot closer to him so that it isn’t such a stretch, and demand his mouth again. His touch, still light, hesitates and pulls back a little. 

Frustratedly, you put it back. When he moves it again, it becomes clear that perhaps he isn’t so much as being awkward as he is playing with you. 

So you decide to forgo the entire thing momentarily. Instead, you push on him little by little, encouraging him to lay down so that you’re on top of him. On the small futon it is awkward, but you manage even if one leg is propping you up. Copia is small beneath you, and you almost feel bad for being on top like this. But you can feel more of him than you’ve ever gotten to feel before, and even with your terrible posture you can feel Copia wants more.

“Do you-” You begin to ask, breaking away from the kiss. Copia looks a little surprised but cuts you off. 

“No, I like this.” He kisses you again and places both of his hands firmly on your ass. “I have everything I need within arm’s reach.” 

"And I see nothing wrong with that." You say, sitting up and shifting your weight so you could grind your hips over his crotch. It really was as big as your memory suggested it was. “But I was thinking this might be more comfortable on a bed?”

**Author's Note:**

> I went to my first ritual in Fargo on 10-4 and I've been obsessed. I am toying with where I want the story to go yet, but this could even stand on its own.


End file.
